


Turns Out That Lonely People Come From Everywhere

by SpaceLord



Series: Whose Bright Idea Was It To Turn A Bunch Of Fucked Up Kids Into Gods? [1]
Category: The Wicked + The Divine
Genre: Excessive Drinking, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Godhood Lucifer, because I don't know wtf I'm talking about, non-specific medication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceLord/pseuds/SpaceLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Responsibilities are for adults and okay, she's an adult too, but she doesn't want to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turns Out That Lonely People Come From Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly after finding out that Lucifer's other name is Eleanor Rigby, my first thought was "Oh that poor girl probably had to put up with so many stupid comments and jokes about her name, I feel her pain."

“Wait, your last name is Rigby? So that means-”

“That I’m Eleanor Rigby, yeah.”

Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door, yeah she knows the song. It’s by the Beatles.  _ Obviously _ her parents were fans, and yeah, they’re so fucking hilarious. Yeah, it  _ would _ be even better if her dad’s name was Mackenzie, because then he could be ‘Father Mackenzie’, ha ha, haven’t heard that joke a million fucking times before. But that’s not his name, so, how about you fuck off?

That’s what she wants to say, and desperately so, but she made the poor decision earlier to try and be  _ nice _ . So instead she plasters on a smile and pretends to find the jokes they make about her name to be funny and like this is the first time she’s heard them.

But hey, she’s only here for the free booze. She may be of legal drinking age, but it doesn’t mean she likes to pay for that shit.

This is still too ‘good’ a crowd for there to be anything other than cigarettes to smoke. She tries not to be too disappointed by that, because really, going home drunk  _ and  _ high will only make her parents upset. And the last thing she wants to deal with while drunk or high but especially both at the same time is upset parents.

The friend she came here with finally comes back with another drink for her, like she requested. Half the liquid is gone before she realizes that she’s chugging it down like it’s the first drink of water she’s had after roaming a desert for three days straight. She stops and laughs it off, and everyone else joins in, and soon they really do want to have a beer chugging contest. Might as fucking well.

The people here are loud and obnoxious, but she’s pretty sure she’s contributing to that at this point. Time’s been ticking by the whole while, as it tends to do, but fuck if she knows what numbers the clock on her phone is blaring at her. Is that a missed call? Or a missed text? … both?

Shit, is someone trying to reach her? Should she call back?

Her train of thought is interrupted by a shot glass being shoved her way, and suddenly all she cares about is pouring more of this burning alcohol into her body.

When she wakes up she’s, miraculously, in her own bed. Still in the clothes she wore the night before, and not really under the covers so much as wrapped up haphazardly in them, but it’s close enough. The throbbing in her head is probably what woke her up. She cracks open her eyes in order to see the time. Turns out it’s just after 11am, so her parents are definitely both away at work by now. Good.

She resists the urge to turn over and go back to sleep and winces as the room spins when she sits up. It’s been awhile since she’s eaten, but she’s not hungry at the moment. Probably for the best, because she can already feel a wave of nausea incoming.

The trek to the bathroom is a slow one, but hey, slow and steady and all that crap. The point is she gets there without tripping over herself or emptying her stomach, so that’s a win in her book. Clumsy hands rummage through the medicine cabinet until she grabs hold of a bottle of painkillers. 

After she washes down the pills with some tap water, she goes to put the bottle back and sees a different bottle of pills she’s supposed to be taking. The ones to help with her ‘problems’. The ones she’s neglected to take for almost a week now.

Better tack on another day to the counter. It’s all bullshit anyway.

Getting downstairs is another slow walk. Not like she’s got anything going on, though, so she finds it hard to care. It’s half past 11 at this point. She’s still not hungry and thinks about making coffee, but doesn’t get any farther than that. Her mom’s ashtray hasn’t been emptied yet, and there are enough cigarette butts in there for her to add one (probably two) without anyone noticing.

And so the kitchen window is opened. The gust of fresh air that hits her face is actually kind of nice. But soon the smell of cigarette smoke is all that fills her nostrils.

After she drops the remains of her first one into the ashtray, she finally notices the note left on the fridge. Even from here she can tell it’s her mom’s handwriting. Once closer, she can see that it says not to go out again before her parents get home because they want to talk.

The note gets crumpled in her fist and thrown in the garbage.  _ Talk _ . Right. Like she’s gonna stick around for that.

She lights up her second cigarette and lets the smoke drift out the window. “Just another fucking day.”

**Author's Note:**

> That was probably an inaccurate description of drinking and the effects of said drinking, but!! I don't care. (Okay I care a little).
> 
> Her 'problems' and medication weren't elaborated on because I'm not an expert on mental health. That being said, as Lucifer, she gives me vibes of having bpd.


End file.
